Closing Time
Log Title: Closing Time Characters: Bulwark, Delusion, Maccadam Location: Maccadam's Old Oil House Date: November 16, 2018 TP: The Fallen TP Summary: Maccadam is packing up and getting ready to leave, but not before Bulwark and Delusion can stop by to ask some questions. Category:2018 Category:Logs As logged by '' Delusion '''Log session starting at 18:08:26 on Friday, 16 November 2018.' The Old Oil House has a bit of activity outside it, as a burgeoning crowd surrounds the pub. The word was out. Maccadam's was closing down. Rumors were abound as to why it was happening, but nobody could settle on a story. One element of the rumors was for sure though, that the Fallen himself stepped foot into the bar. Currently, the staff of the Old Oil House were doing something never seen before. They were pulling kegs from the establishment. The old barkeep was giving direction as it was happening, on the inside. "Easy now. Third eon oil there, still worth a few shanix despite all the radiation..." Absently, he runs his sterilizing wand over a few glasses, like he would do so often. The cubes though, end up being stored away as he cleaned. Delusion takes the easy way around the crowd. She hovers down over it, and steps inside the building, making sure to move far enough inside to let Bulwark through as well. As her optics take in the activity, she frowns. Bulwark steps through the doorway and takes in the scene. He only pauses a few seconds before resume forward progress towards the bar, and Mac. Sall-E, the Junkion server, drops off a large metal box on the bar, it hits the shelf with a bit of a rattling thud. "The office is all packed up." Perhaps there's a hint of annoyance in her tone. Work for an employer for two eons, then suddenly you're out of a job. Mac winces as the box is nearly dropped. He manages a perturbed face, "Thanks, Sall-E...Be sure to come on back for the official close." He puts his hand on the box for a moment, a bit tenderly, then puts it behind the bar. "We're closing up, folks." He says absently to the entrants, not even looking. "Unless you're paying a tab, there's no drink for you here." Delusion shakes her head. "Not here for drinks, though I would have bought one if they were available." She crosses her arms. Bulwark taps the bar. "You know, we could use a quality place like yours over in Valvolux, Mac, and you employees would be more than welcome there too." He taps the bar lightly, "At the moment though, we need to talk about something, well, someone else." Its an absent look aside when he hears the two speak. "There's not going to /be/ a House, as soon as I finish readying this shipment to the Rollout." Frustration and reluctance fill his tone, but the old mech sort of stiffens himself up. It takes a moment for him to raise his head fully. "But...until then, I am still a proprietor, I suppose." He gestures to the bar, then pulls up an already disconnected keg to put on the bar nearby. "Its Last Call....whats on your processors?" Delusion pulls over a stool rather than remain standing around. "The Fallen threatens Valvolux, and the city is full of crafters, not warriors. We need knowledge to safeguard them." Bulwark nods, "I had thought of protecting the city with a force field but, as you are aware, the Fallen can be most anywhere he chooses. That left me wondering if we could contruct some kind of denial field to keep him from doing just that." The mech rubs his chin, "Not tat it would keep him from entering normally, but it would at least allow some warning and response time." A frown crosses his face, and he looks away. There's resentment in his posture. "This is exactly why the House is closing down." Mac turns aside, picking items from the wall of kitchy figures and icons behind him. He scans them over a subspace portal, effectively putting them into his briefcase. "Everyone's wanting angles and sides. Looking for their own way to spin the war, looking for an advantage." He lets out a huff of frustration, "Eight eons of neutrality, and now everyone's wanting war game advice." Delusion shakes her head. "There are very few sources of any information on this particular problem. You wouldn't be my first choice if the field weren't so thin." She stands again, clasping her hands behind her back. "This isn't about the war between the Autobots and the Decepticons. This is about your generation's problem." Bulwark frowns at the barkeep. "This is not about an advantage. It is about preserving lives." As he watches Mac put the figures away he starts to reach back over his shoulder, but stops and lowers his hand. "I have other means of dealing with the threat, but I'd rather spare anymore unneeded destruction and casualties." Maccadam says, "*My Generation's problems*...will only be solved when everyone from *my generation* has been terminated." All the years of mystery and geneality, and now people are just openly talking to him about it all. It was everything he was trying to get away from. It is obvious he is tempted to just shoo off these two,...but Bulwark had been a pretty good mech back in the day. Maccadam exhausts, then motions with his head. " Bring the keg." Mac's office is pretty humble overall, nothing too ornate, though there's a good deal of holos and ornaments from old times here, no doubt. His desk is mostly boxed up by now, but still some datapads lay about. He sighs, "Lets get this over with....you're wanting to deal with the Fallen, well my recommendation is to not do so. None of your second age tech is going to lay a glove on him."" Delusion follows. She comments, soft enough to be missed if noone is paying attention, "Death is the easy way out," and picks up the keg. It looks a bit strange given her stretched thin frame, but apparently she's not giving Bulwark the chance to do it instead. As she enters Maccadam's office, she sets the keg down gently on his desk and leans on it. Bulwark again lets Delusion lead, and when they get into the office he shuts the door; giving a little bit of concentration to make sure they'll be undisturbed for the time being by fusing parts of it with the frame. "When it comes to time to deal with him I have something older to reply upon. Something that I am certain will get his attention; especially with what I witnessed in Retoris." Maccadam shakes his head, "The hammer, you mean?" He sort of dismissively waves a hand, and sets out a few more cups for the keg. He pours silently, and sets out a few drinks. With a bit of a creak, he sets himself down at his desk. "I can tell you already that he's not going to be killed by whatever you put forth. No, that mech set himself down on a path that only his *real* enemy can follow." Maccadam shakes his head again, his optics elsewhere, "A damn shame. All of it....but you're wanting...what was it, early warning systems for Valvolux? Is that it? If you're really so concerned about the city, you'd be better off leaving it. I'd think.....still, I suppose if you really wanted to try to track him. I'd suggest getting some readings on rancorite, and starting there." Delusion quirks a ghost of a smile. "Warnings would help, but prevention would be best." Bulwark nods, "Yes, the hammer. It should prove quite effective, when needed." He motions to Delusion. "As she says, keeping him out would be much preferrable, and it would seem possible to do. I just don't know exactly how to accomplish it completely." Maccadam upturns his hands, "Well that's not really possible, not with today's technology, at any way. And its not like I ever studied how he does what he does. He was always....something else." Maccadam frowns and sits forward, "If...and there's a big if there...If I had any idea where to start, it'd be with rancorite..." He gestures to himself, "Its...sentiometal. That is to say, it reacts with emotion, in particular and unsurprisingly, rage. Thats were the fire comes from, or at least most of it. I doubt no matter what he's been through with the Chaosbringer..." Mac mumbles for a moment, musing, " that his frame hasn't changed too much. But I'll tell you again, you're not going to kill him. However maybe you can adjust your sensors." He picks up a steel pad from his table, and runs his fingers across it, letting it tumble between each knuckle. A blue-white fire coarses over his hand, causing the steel to change from one color to the next. Gold, green, red, copper, " Even if you somehow...transmuted rancorite into something else, you'd only deny him one weapon." Delusion nods. "He bleeds dark energon- that's more than dangerous enough." She tilts her head, watching the metal pad change. "It's a place to start. Thank you." "That may be enough to change the balance of things the little bit that is needed to prevent him from succeeding in his quest. I for one don't want to think about what could happen if he were to reverse the creation of the Well.." The Founder regards Mac again. "What are your plans once you have evrything sent off and packed away? Start again somewhere else and leave this... issue to others?" Maccadam puts a hand before his mouth, the very same thing he'd been musing. "Eh...people are already remembering me...for the wrong things. I never wanted any of this, any high-concept decisions or drama." He stands again, takes one of the glasses and downs it. "Playing at being more than what we were, being treated like we were anything more than sapient. People only get to be important because enough people think they need to be.....but there's no sense in keeping the House. There's already people heading here from outside the galaxy, all wanting to see someone who never really existed." He looks sour, "Names...as if they give you power." He looks to the door, "I'm going to pay off my staff with the treasury I've gotten from running the place. It'll be more than enough to ensure each of them can do whatever they want, for the rest of their lives...then I'm getting in a shuttle." His tone turns to something of a growl, "And I won't be looking back." Delusion frowns, letting a bit of her disapproval show. She straightens up, sliding into a more official, miliary 'at ease' stance. "It's your life to spend as you wish." Bulwark frowns some as well. "Issues have a way of creeping up on you; even when you try to get away from them. I hadn't expected to be needed for quite some time, and yet..." Following Mac's gaze to the door he gives it a light touch to undo the work he had done earlier. "You know you can't outrun him. If he wants to find you again, he will, if he's still outside of his prison that is. Putting him back is a whole other problem; one that I'm not certain either of us is prepared to deal with." Maccadam raises a hand, "He's not here for me. If he really was, I'd be dead. I only stood a chance because he knew he couldn't go full power on me. All that bluster and rage was him sending a message. He's going to find a way to get what he wants. Everything else, every 'heroic battle', every trap, every bit of asset denial, it just postpones him. That's it. If you really want Valvolux spared, here's how you do it." He gives the two a pause, "Have nothing there he wants. He's on a mission, and that mission most likely isn't going to be to slaughter a city, unless he thinks that he can get something out if it." He points to Bulwark, "You attach yourself to that city like you have, his only reason to come for it, is because you've made it clear that it matters to you." Delusion 's red optics glint. "The world is cruel, an endless cycle of strife and suffering. There are no lost causes- there are no gained causes. No victory is forever. The only respite is that earned through the work of one's own hands." She nods to Maccadam. "Thank you again for the information." And she heads for the door. Bulwark shakes his head, "I can find other reasons he might be there that he's not actually aware of ... and that might give me an advantage I can use." He shakes his head, "As for his mission, well, you know as well as I do that I can't let him succeed at that; even if it cost me everything to stop him." He turns towards the door. "Good luck with your plans. Maybe I'll see you around once this is all said and done. Might do me some good to take a flight and survey things again..." And so the two depart, leaving the mech alone in his office, doing the thing he hated the most to do . Think of it all, and consider the might-have-been moments that would've changed the galaxy... Log session ending at 21:15:54 on Friday, 16 November 2018.